


Socks and Stockings

by dhwty_writes



Series: Geraskier One-Shots [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Knitting, M/M, Seriously guys it's just fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27134345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhwty_writes/pseuds/dhwty_writes
Summary: Geralt is a good friend, who will mend his bard's clothes.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier One-Shots [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931821
Comments: 16
Kudos: 164





	Socks and Stockings

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: Uh, Prompt time. Geraskier aaaand socks? Yep, gonna go with socks

"Oh, hey Geralt," an all too familiar voice rang through the silence of the forest, "fancy meeting you here. What are you doing?"

"Jaskier," he rumbled softly, not looking up from what he was doing. "Heard you were in the area."

"You did? Why didn't you come look for me? Are you implying you're not enjoying my superb company, you scamp?"

A smile crossed his face as he began another row.

"Oh, shut up, you old grump!" The bard flopped down on the damp forest floor in front of him, a wide grin plastered on his face. "We both know how utterly smitten you are wi- Geralt, are you _knitting_?"

"Hmm," he answered, nearly dropping a stitch. "Yeah."

Jaskier spluttered indignantly, obviously shocked by that revelation. "What? Why? Next you're telling me you know how to sew!"

"I do." He rotated his needles to begin another row. "Vesemir taught me." He tried very hard not to blush. It wasn't something he was ashamed of. Vesemir had been very adamant about teaching them, claiming that no student of his would wear rags on the Path. Besides, it was very calming. But the way Jaskier reacted made his skin crawl. The poet's tongue was ever so sharp with mockery and-

"Are you serious? I've known you for twenty years, Geralt! Twenty years!" The bard huffed and puffed and crossed his arms. " _Two decades_ of me suffering from holes in socks and breeches alike and you are telling me now you could have fixed that all along?"

Geralt looked up and blinked. "You never asked," he said simply.

"I never- of course I never asked! Why would I? I never knew it was an option!"

"You ask about everything else."

Jaskier pouted. It wasn't adorable. It was ridiculous of a man of nearly forty years to pout. But Jaskier was very ridiculous in all kinds of aspects, and he liked that well enough. "Fine," the bard conceded. "I'm asking now. Will you help mend my clothes, Geralt?"

"Fine," he answered and ducked his head to hide his smile. "Strip, then."

"Fine," he almost purred, "if you ask so _nicely_."

In hindsight, it had been very stupid of Geralt. Not that he minded the mending, of course. He had a whole afternoon to fill, after all.

The problem was, that the only clothes of Jaskier that were not filled with holes, was a pair of silk stockings. And because he was a good friend, Geralt had offered to lend him his spare shirt to wear while he worked on the rest of the clothes.

'Fucking stupid,' he thought and stabbed Jaskier's breeches with the needle. Because now the bard was lounging on the other side of the camp in nothing but Geralt's shirt and the damned light blue stockings, lute in lap, plucking at it idly. He cursed quietly.

He looked up, an amused smile dancing around his lips. "What?"

'Fuck.' he quickly looked down again. "Nothing," he muttered.

"Oh no! Oh, no no no no! None of that, my dear witcher!" Before he could say anything Jaskier was on his feet, walking over to him. "Come on, Geralt, we're friends! Talk to me." And as if it was the most normal thing in the entire world, he sat down next to him, extending his silk clad feet into his lap. "Please?"

"Hmm," Geralt answered, his eyes trained firmly on the shiny fabric. It looked so soft...

"What is it that's bothering you so terribly? I swear, I'll remove any cause for your irritation instantly, be it within my power."

'Dear gods, anything but that,' he thought as the image of Jaskier in just his shirt flashed through his mind. He was barely keeping it together as it was.

"Come on," the bard teased. To make things worse, he hooked his legs over Geralt's thighs to pull himself closer. And leaned against him, Melitele have mercy. "I'm sure I can be of assistance."

Geralt frowned. That was a bit much even for Jaskier. A horrible thought crossed his mind. "Are you doing this on purpose?"

His eyes gleamed. "Is it working? You were so eager to get me out of my clothes before, I thought- mph!"

The rest of Jaskier's words were quickly silenced by the kiss Geralt pulled him into. It wasn't a rough kiss, by any means. In fact, it was ridiculously soft and sweet. 'Just like Jaskier.'

When they pulled apart, the poet smiled. "There," he patted his cheek gently. "That's better."

"Jaskier?" Geralt asked and smiled, too.

"Hmm?"

"Shut up," he said and kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> [Send me some prompts!](https://dhwty-writes.tumblr.com/ask)


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